Tense
by sonomom
Summary: Past, present and future walked into a bar. It was tense. How does Stephanie get herself into these situations? More importantly, how does she get out of them? Babe. HEA One-shot.


A/N: As always I use them not for profit, but just for fun and there wouldn't be much fun without the beta skills of jago-ji. Thank you, my friend, for taking time away from your posting schedule to make this story post-worthy.

**TENSE**

Past, Present and Future walked into a bar. It was tense**.**

It was a rare occurrence to find Connie Rosolli and myself filing in the bonds office. I slid the last folder into place and turned to her. "I'm glad Vinnie isn't here to see this."

"Vinnie would have a cow if he saw his office manager and his numero uno bounty hunter doing the filing," Connie said, cracking her gum to punctuate her statement.

"I'm not Vinnie's number one," I said, the image of Ranger forming in my brain.

"You are his numero uno and his numero only. Ranger doesn't belong to anyone."

That was true, but I didn't like the implication I belonged to Vinnie. I shook my head to clear that thought. I didn't belong to anyone, except, well, sort of to Joe, but then not really.

"Fortunately, the semester is about over so Lula can get back to her regular job," I said.

"Yeah," Connie said. "It'll be nice to have Lula sitting on the couch, still not filing." Connie's complaint was interrupted by the phone and she sat at her desk to answer. The door to the office opened wide and Lula flounced through.

"Come outside and take a look at my car," she said, excitement ramping her voice a full octave higher than her normal range. With Lula, excitement wasn't always a good thing. I followed her out the door and looked up and down the street. I was expecting to see a new ding or dent. It didn't take much to get Lula worked up about her baby.

"Where's the Firebird?" Lula's Firebird was MIA. In her usual parking place was a fire-engine red, brand new Camaro.

"No!" I said. "You didn't trade in the Firebird?"

"I did," Lula said. "She was my baby, but she was twelve years old. I traded her while she still had some life left in her, and I got me this new Camaro. I thought I needed a new car befittin' a college graduate. Hop in and I'll show off my new ride."

I did as she asked and slid into the passenger seat, wondering where Lula managed to come up with the funds to purchase a new car. Maybe she had the Ranger new-car gene. It was true, Lula was on the brink of graduating from college, well, community college, but I didn't think Vinnie was going to raise her salary because of an associate degree.

"Don't you think you were a little eager?" I asked her. "You've still got the World History final to pass."

"I'm not worried, 'cause you and me are gonna study my ass off tonight. I'll pass, and then I'm going to work on being a social worker. I'm already enrolled in night classes at Thomas Edison State College."

I sat, buckled myself in and stayed quiet, as Lula seamlessly shifted through the gears. Her car glided over pot-holed Trenton roads in the smooth way only a new car can and I firmly quashed a little flair of envy. "Where we gonna study?" Lula asked me. "My apartment's too little. We need a big table to spread out all my books. We should use your place."

"No can do," I said. "Dillon is remodeling my bathroom. I'm finally getting rid of the orange and brown theme. I'm staying with Morelli tonight. We could study there. He won't be home because he's working late."

"No way," Lula said. "I couldn't concentrate there. I'd wanna watch his big screen TV."

"Okay," I said. "What about the library?"

"Libraries make me nervous," she replied. "They're too quiet. What about Pino's?"

"Too noisy," I said.

"That's good," Lula said. "I work good in noise." I thought for a moment. A bar wasn't exactly an ideal study spot, but then I remembered Hennessey's. Hennessey's is a neighborhood bar on the edge of the Burg, unusual because the Burg isn't known for its Irish population, and it's a multi-generational family sort of place. It would be the perfect, out-of-the-way spot to get Lula to concentrate on her studying. I suggested it and she agreed.

"Can you get Morelli to give you a ride to the bar?" Lula asked. "I'll meet you there and then when we're done we'll cruise the Burg in my new baby. You're gonna love the way the dashboard lights up, all high-tech. This is one sexy car, especially after dark." I had no idea how true those words would turn out to be.

"Okay," I said, thinking Morelli wouldn't be available, but I'd find a ride. "Sounds like a plan. Be there at seven sharp."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**Past Imperfect**

Dickie Orr doubled up his fist and slammed it down on the vinyl roof of the car parked at the curb. The car alarm sounded as pain radiated up his arm and he cursed loudly and quickly walked away. It was nearing seven and he'd hoped to have been celebrating his partnership in the firm by this time. Instead he found himself unemployed. He rubbed his sore fist and continued his unplanned path down the sidewalk. He couldn't believe it. All the billable hours, all the clients he'd brought in, all of his hard work down the drain and it was all the fault of his pain-in-the-ass, damnable ex-wife. If he'd known a year ago that the senior partner was a social club buddy of Frank Plum, he could have done damage control. Now it was too late.

His boss had asked him to stay after hours for a meeting, one of importance, and Dickie had assumed the partnership he so richly deserved was going to be offered, but he'd been wrong.

Old Frank Plum, his ex-father-in-law, and Harry Smith, the senior partner, had gotten together recently at their club and they'd had one too many. Frank had told Harry some BS story about Dickie's inability to keep his pants zipped and tonight Harry told Dickie there was no room for a man with his moral turpitude in the firm. The old ass. Everyone knew Harry was banging his triple D, bleached blonde paralegal, Barbie. Dickie was certain his dismissal from the firm had less to do with morals and more to do with a sense of loyalty to Frank Plum. Hell, everyone at the firm was banging someone they weren't married to. He'd caught triple D Barbie giving him the eye earlier in the day and he'd briefly thought about asking her to celebrate his new partnership, which he had hoped to be doing right about now. Maybe Harry considered her his private property, but Harry didn't have any idea there was chemistry between him and Barbie. No, this wasn't about Barbie, this was about Stephanie.

Dickie continued to walk and, lost in thought, he stepped off the curb. The sound of a horn caused him to jerk his head up and he jumped back on the curb. He saw a yellow cab speed by, dangerously close to him. As if he'd conjured him up, the bastard Plum rolled by in his cab. Again, Dickie cursed loudly. He heard mewing and looked to see a black cat on the sidewalk in front of him. Without thinking he swung his leg. He was going to kick the cat out of his path, but the cat was too fast and Dickie's leg swung out in a purposeful, but unconnected, arc. He fell into the gutter, and the cat, which seemed to be smiling at him, ran directly across his path.

He pulled himself up and began to walk, damning the cat, damning Frank Plum and his sorry-ass daughter. Suddenly he stopped. This was not his fault and it really wasn't Frank Plum's fault either. Malcontent swirled through his mind, congealed and formed a vortex of foot-stomping temper and disgust. Disgust for Stephanie Plum, a woman who'd been in his life only briefly, but who continued to screw it up. He laughed at the irony. That was the problem. She screwed him, but she wouldn't screw with him. If she'd been the woman he needed from the beginning he wouldn't have had to look elsewhere. Stephanie was so sexually repressed no normal man would be satisfied with her. Her _I won't do that_ list had sent him looking elsewhere. It wasn't his fault, it was hers. Dickie looked down the block to see a blinking neon sign. Hennessey's bar. He made his way with purpose. He needed a drink.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**Present **

Joe Morelli pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Stephanie.

"Hey, Cupcake," he said smoothly. "What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for Lula," she told him. "I'm going to help her study tonight for her World History final. We're meeting at…"

"You're a good friend, Cupcake," he said, interrupting her. He knew it irritated her when he interrupted, but he was working and he'd spotted his informant sitting in her car across the street from where he was standing. He would explain later that his work was important and he hadn't had time to chat. "You remember I'm working late tonight?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "I don't think I'll be too late with Lula. What time will you be home?" Good, he thought, she didn't sound pissed. He had plans with her later. It was a great night for a double-header.

"I'm not sure. I'm meeting with an informant and it may take a while to wheedle out the information I need. If you beat me home, let Bob out."

"Sure, no problem," she told him and disconnected. Morelli smiled as he heard the condom packages crinkle when he shoved his phone back in his pocket. Oh yeah, he was meeting with an informant. This particular snitch always had good information for him, but her news never came cheap. She liked to have her belly warmed with a shot or two, and she liked to have her bed warmed with Joe. It was an agreeable way to get the information he needed. It was the same way he got Terry Gilman to keep him abreast of the mob goings-on in Trenton and, while it wasn't a method of information gathering found in the Trenton PD handbook, it worked well for him.

He crossed the street and rapped on the window of the parked car. The door opened and his informant slid out, all five foot ten inches of her. Their eyes met and she smiled as she faced him and ran her hand up and down his fly. Joe knew she had information for him that would impact a case he was working on, but at that exact moment the information took a backseat to the way her breasts were rubbing against the front of his shirt. He leaned in for a leisurely kiss before he pulled away slightly, dislodging her hand from the front of his jeans which were becoming uncomfortably tight.

"You seem happy to see me," she purred.

He smiled and threw an arm around her shoulders. "You know it, Cupcake. Let's go have a drink." He walked close to her, around the corner, down the block and into Hennessey's. He felt no guilt. He was a cop and she was his informant. It was all in a day's work.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**Future **

Kevin Hennessey was an arrogant, dangerous man with powerful connections. The connections had allowed him to be bonded out after an arrest for capital murder in Boston. The arrogance made him careless and he'd been spotted at his cousin's pub in Trenton. He was FTA and RangeMan had been contracted by the Boston bail bonds firm. The bounty was high and Ranger was determined to bring Hennessey in quickly and quietly. He was watching the front of the bar and Tank was on the back door. Lester and Bobby were in a SUV down the block waiting for instruction.

Their informant indicated Hennessey would show up around six p.m., if he was going to show up at all. It was nearing seven and there'd been no sign of him yet, but Ranger was going to give it a little more time before he aborted the surveillance. He was invisible, in the shadow of the building where he waited quietly. The yellow taxi caught his attention immediately, as did the passenger who rode in front. She leaned across and gave the driver a kiss on the cheek and exited the cab. She stood for a moment looking up and down the street. Shrugging her shoulders, she turned and walked into the bar. What was Stephanie doing in this place?

Ranger looked at his watch. He'd had a gut feeling all day that Hennessey wouldn't show. He'd been about to give up the surveillance and try a different approach, but with Stephanie in the bar he decided to give it a little more time. She had an uncanny knack of placing herself in the middle of things and even though she was unaware of the op, Ranger took her presence as a sign things were about to happen. He had no idea how right he was.

A few minutes later, a man crossed the street at the corner and made his way toward the bar. It wasn't Hennessey, but Ranger recognized him immediately. Dickie Orr. Why was Stephanie meeting with Orr? In times past when they'd been in the same space, it hadn't been pretty. He had no desire to place himself between Stephanie and her ex. If there was an altercation his money was on Stephanie. He wasn't worried about her safety if she got into it with the Dick, and he didn't care about Orr's.

Ranger's phone vibrated and he looked to see Santos on the caller ID. "Yo," he said quietly.

"Got a familiar LTD parking a half-block down on Tyler," Lester reported. "It's rusted out and burning oil."

"Morelli?" Ranger asked, recognizing the description of the Trenton PD undercover vehicle.

"Yeah," Lester said, "He's out of the car now and on his phone." The connection was silent for a moment while Ranger waited for Lester's update.

"He's off the phone and walking across the street where it looks like he's meeting someone, and holy shit, she's hot." More silence ensued. "They're coming your way and this ain't good, boss. They're rounding the corner now."

"I've got a visual," Ranger told Lester. "Wait for further instruction." They disconnected and Ranger watched as the couple walked toward the pub, stopping several times to kiss and fondle one another. As they disappeared inside the bar Ranger felt more than a skitter of unease.

What the fuck was going on? Could this all be one big coincidence? It was Stephanie after all. Any time Stephanie and Dickie Orr were in the same place, things didn't end well. But when Orr, Morelli with another woman and Stephanie were in the same place, people would be injured. He sighed and lifted his phone to call Tank. He was going in. He had no choice.

As Ranger stepped forward from the shadows he noticed a shiny red Camaro cruising slowly down the street. He recognized Lula as the car passed him and slowed down. She was looking for a place to park and he saw the vacant curb space at the same time her brake lights went on. She was going to park a few doors down from the bar, but before she could do that she'd have to make a u-turn. He hoped her parallel parking skills were rusty, because he needed a little time.

He called Tank.

"All's quiet out back," Tank answered.

"It's not quiet in front." Ranger responded. "Hennessey is no longer our priority. In the last few minutes I've seen Stephanie, Dickie Orr, and Morelli with a blonde on his arm go inside the pub. I don't have any idea what's going on." He spoke the truth. He didn't know what was happening inside the bar, but he did know one thing. Adding Lula to the mix would be like lighting the fuse on a big stick of dynamite.

"Lula's cruising the street and getting ready to park," he told Tank. "She can't be allowed in. She's in a red Camaro. Keep her out _at any cost_." He disconnected and once again stepped from the shadows and made his way to the door of the bar.

He entered the pub and saw Stephanie at once. She was in a booth, to the side and slightly behind the bar. She was facing the front of the pub, but her cell phone was in her hands and she appeared to be texting. It gave him opportunity to get situated without her noticing him. Orr was sitting at one end of the u-shaped bar, only partially visible to Stephanie, Ranger realized. There were two empty shot glasses in front of him. Ranger estimated it had been less than five minutes since the attorney had entered the bar. Orr was working fast. Currently he and Morelli, who was leaning against the opposite side of the bar, were staring daggers at one another. The blonde was near the back of the pub on the side opposite from Stephanie, and both Morelli and the other side of the pub were completely out of her view, thankfully. Ranger watched for a moment as the statuesque blonde bent forward to rack the balls at the pool table. Yes, it was a good thing Stephanie didn't have his view. He slipped, unseen, into a booth which was partially hidden by a coat rack and settled in to wait.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

I stepped through the door of Hennessey's and scanned the room. No sign of Lula, but I was a little early. A large bar occupied the central area of the pub with a few tables in front of it. On the right side of the bar there was a row of booths that extended to the back wall of the pub. On the left side there was an area that also extended to the back wall, but this side had no booths. It contained a pool table, a vintage foosball game and a dartboard. The few occupants of the pub were mostly converged in the gaming area, and I thought the row of booths would suit Lula and me perfectly.

Not seeing a waitress, I walked toward the bar. The bartender was tall and well-built with jet-black hair and eyes as blue as mine. His rosy cheeks made him look as though he'd just stepped out of an Irish Spring ad. He smiled at me as he wiped the pristine bar with a cloth.

"What can I getcha, pretty lady?" His voice was a deep baritone, as smooth as Irish whiskey, but the accent told me his Irish had fermented for a generation, or two, in south Jersey. I liked him immediately.

"Well," I hesitated. I wanted a beer, but I needed to stay focused to help Lula study.

Sensing my hesitation the bartender made a suggestion. "We've got a special tonight. Shirley's Irish Stout for fifteen bucks a pitcher, but since you're alone I don't think you'll be needin' a pitcher."

"I'm meeting someone here," I told him. "We were hoping to use one of your booths to study for a college final."

"That would be fine," he said. "We've got wi-fi and a quiet side." He gave a quick look over his shoulder to the group playing pool, and then tilted his head to the row of booths where I'd been planning to sit. "Looks like you can have your choice of seating tonight. Now, what's your pleasure?"

"Um, I'll just have a coke. I need to keep a clear head for studying."

"True," he replied, "but you need something to get the fire for learning roused up. I think you look like a Lucky Charm girl." He turned his back to me and grabbed a series of bottles, poured and stirred. When he turned to me, he held out a glass of green liquid that seemed to fluoresce. I raised my hand to push the glass back and found my fingers curling around it.

"What is it?" I asked warily.

"It's a Lucky Charm."

"I mean, what's _in_ it?" The glass was cool in my hand and I was thirsty. I was tempted to take a big gulp.

"Darlin,' I can't tell you what's in it. It's a secret, but I can tell you it's magically delicious…and one won't hurt you. Go ahead, it's on the house." He winked and I smiled my thanks, took a sip and was surprised at the palatability of the drink that looked like a melted glow stick.

As I made my way to the row of booths my cell phone rang. It was Mary Lou, my oldest friend.

"Hey, whatcha you up to?" she asked.

"I'm in a bar waiting for Lula, and I think the really cute bartender was just flirting with me. He gave me a drink on the house."

"What would Joe think of that?" she questioned.

"He'd be glad he didn't have to buy the drink."

"Is he taking you for granted, Stephanie?" That question gave me pause to think.

"Maybe, a little," I said. "He's been working late a lot lately."

"Huh, undercover I bet." I'd known Mary Lou long enough to recognize her sarcasm.

"What have you heard, Mare?" I asked. My stomach did a little flip-flop.

"Nothing," she said. "But he's a Morelli and sooner or later they all stray."

"I thought you were a Joe fan."

"I am a Joe fan," she said. "I might be more of a Joe fan than you are." Mary Lou and I have been friends for a long time and there is rarely anything left unsaid between us, so her next statement came as a surprise, only because I didn't know I was that transparent. "The thing is," she said, "I think your fan oscillates."

There was an outcry from the other side of the pub, where someone had obviously just won a dart game or sunk a great pool shot and I used the noise as an excuse to disconnect. I placed my Lucky Charm on an empty table and made my way to the restrooms at the back of the bar, thinking about Mary Lou's statement.

Joe and I were on again, after a lengthy off phase. I thought maybe Ranger would step forward and tell me he was finally ready for a relationship. He'd stepped forward several times with the promise of sexual fulfillment, but he remained adamant in his anti-relationship stance. When it finally sunk into my brain that Ranger wasn't boyfriend material, I made the decision to put Joe back in my life. I wanted a commitment and I knew I was never going to get one from Ranger.

As I exited the restroom with freshly fluffed curls I looked into the main area of the bar. Still no Lula. I slid into the seat, sipped my drink and texted her to make sure she was on her way. I wasn't surprised she wasn't at the pub. I was early and Lula nearly always ran late. My mind was tumbling over what Mary Lou had implied. I hated to admit Joe was a second choice, but it was the truth. As long as I was with Joe, Ranger would keep his distance and that would keep my heart whole.

My introspection was interrupted by a loud voice and also by the chills that prickled the skin on my arms, because I recognized the voice. I looked up sharply. Sitting at the edge of the bar was Dickie Orr, my jerk of an ex-husband. I could see him from the back, but he hadn't seen me. He was in a suit looking lawyerly and strangely out of place in the pub. He was calling to someone across the bar, who was unseen to me, and I started paying attention to the conversation.

"I thought the two of you were tight," Dickie said. "But here you are, slumming. She wasn't woman enough for me and judging by what you came through the door with, she must not be woman enough for you either."

"Shut up, Orr." The chills on my arms turned into goose-bump mountains. I couldn't see the other speaker at all, but I recognized that voice as well. It was Morelli. I scooted to the corner of the booth and slid down low in the seat and I lifted my Lucky Charm and took a big swig. What the hell was I going to do? I didn't want to be seen by either man, especially since Morelli was working and probably undercover.

"What's the matter, Morelli? Did Stephanie pull out her _I won't do that_ list? Did you pick up that blonde chick to give you some head?" He paused while the bartender slid another shot in front of him and took away two empty glasses.

"Heh, heh," he laughed and then picked up the glass and threw the shot to the back of his throat. "No oral sex," he continued, slightly slurring his words. "That's number two on her list, right behind doggie style. She won't do that either." I couldn't believe it. Dickie was talking about me…and what blonde chick?

I heard Morelli growl before he answered. "None of your business, Orr, but the woman I'm with is business."

"What kind of 'business' made you stick your tongue down her throat, before you sent her back to play pool?" Dickie asked. My ears were starting to buzz and I could feel my face getting hot. I didn't know what kind of work would make Morelli have to kiss a blonde woman. I refocused as I heard Morelli continue. I still couldn't see him, but I could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Stephanie doesn't have a list with me, Orr. There's nothing she won't do for me. I think the problem was you. I can have her from the front, from the back and in ways you can't imagine."

"I know Stephanie," Orr said, "and you must have a bridge to sell if you think I believe that." Dickie sounded like he was spoiling for a fight and he was going to have one, but he would be surprised at his opponent.

Dickie was discussing my sex life, out loud, in a bar with Morelli and Morelli was talking back. It seems Joe hadn't moved too far away from the punk kid that wrote about me on a bathroom wall. I was livid and I wasn't going to listen to any more. My movements were outwardly calm as I got up from the booth and walked slowly down the aisle. I crossed over to the bar and stepped in close, next to Dickie. Morelli's face paled with recognition, but I ignored him for the moment and turned to the bartender.

"I'll need another one of those Lucky Charms," I said. "And put it on this guy's tab." I pointed to Dickie and smiled at him. He made no comment about buying me a drink, but he scowled.

"Stephanie," Joe said as he started to make his way toward me.

I held up my hand to stop him and smiled. "In a minute, Joe. There's something I want to say to Dickie first."

"Huh," Dickie said. "What are you going to say? Are you going to say no? That's what you usually said. I was just telling the officer here that you weren't much in the sack."

"I heard," I said, smiling as sweetly as my blood pressure would allow. The bartender set the glass of potent, glowing lime courage in front of me and I smoothly lifted it from the bar and to my lips. I downed the glass in three large gulps and set the empty glass back on the bar resisting the urge to wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Instead, I raised my hand.

"I heard," I repeated. "I heard you talking about positions I didn't like." I held my hand with fingers splayed in front of his face. "See this hand, Dickie? Five fingers, each one a harmless little finger." I took time to give him my most charming smile, and then continued, "But when I fold the fingers down one by one, this feminine little hand becomes a weapon of mass destruction." Then with speed I didn't know I had, I pulled my arm back and let a punch fly straight into his nose. The awful cracking sound was music to my ears. I hit him with such force he toppled off the bar stool backwards and landed on the floor with his feet tangled on the foot rest of the stool. His crotch was wide open and an easy target.

"Speaking of positions, I like your position," I told him as I raised my foot and stomped full force on the fly of his dress pants. His blood-curdling scream caused a moment's silence in the bar and out of the corner of my eye I saw both Joe and the bartender cringe.

I turned and faced Joe in time to see a tall blonde woman in a red bandage dress, and red Valentino Scallop pumps that cost more than my current car, come around the corner behind him. Her scarlet-tipped fingers were curled around a pool cue.

"Are you okay, baby?" she asked Joe with red Clara Bow lips hovering close to his ear.

He smiled at her and said, "Go on back to the game. I've got a little business to take care of and then I'll join you, Cupcake." He gave her ass a squeeze and she smiled as she pivoted and swayed her way out of sight.

My mouth was hanging open. "Stephanie, I can explain. It's not what you think," Joe hurried to say. His voice was low. Clearly, he didn't want Blondie to hear.

"You called her Cupcake," I hissed.

"It's work. I'm undercover."

"You called her Cupcake!" I launched my body toward Joe. In my mind I saw myself as an angry spider monkey, wrapping my legs around his waist, screeching and clawing at his face. In reality, I didn't make it that far. A muscular arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me out of mid-air back against an equally muscular body. Dickie, I thought. He had pulled himself up off the floor and was getting ready to exact his revenge. The startled look on Morelli's face confirmed my suspicion.

My hands flailed as I tried to wrest myself from the grip around my waist, and inadvertently my fingers brushed against a cold pitcher of beer on the bar. I grasped the handle and without thought, heaved it backwards over my head. I head the soft grunt as the pitcher made contact with Dickie's head and I felt cold rivulets of beer splatter against my neck and back. The grip on my waist loosened and that's when I noticed the arm holding me was encased in black ripstop nylon. I twisted away and turned around and wasn't really all that surprised to see Dickie still moaning on the floor. The muscular arm and hard body should have been an earlier clue. Ranger stood unmoving, an empty pitcher at his feet and the tan foam of Shirley's Irish ale topping his head like a tilted halo.

Again, with speed I didn't know I had I ran for the door. I burst through the door to the sidewalk and skidded to a stop, not knowing where to turn next. I saw a bright shiny Camaro near the end of the block and sighed with relief. Noise from the bar put me in action and I ran full out, my Chuck Taylors slapping loudly on the concrete. My hand wrapped around the passenger door handle of the Camaro and I jerked it open and angled myself toward the seat in one move.

"Thank heavens you're here. We need to get…" I stopped mid-sentence and mid-sit. The passenger seat wasn't empty. It was full of a large, black man in cargos and a ripstop nylon windbreaker, and there was something moving in his lap. Moving with an odd rhythm, almost like a bouncing, bobbing….omg!

Tank half opened his eyes and looked toward the door. He reached a hand out and firmly pulled the door closed. I jumped back as the door whooshed by me and latched and I heard the lock click. Through the tinted window I still had a view of the back of Lula's head and its never changing rhythm. What I was seeing was burned on my retinas, but my brain hadn't fully comprehended the picture. I stepped back into the now familiar hard body, and the yeasty scent mixed with a gentler scent of Bulgari told me Ranger was behind me.

I turned to look at his face expecting to see anger, or possibly his trademark blank stare. The startled look on his face made me realize his brain had processed what mine had refused to. Contrary to what Dickie said in the bar I wasn't opposed to that particular sexual activity, except apparently, when it involved Lula and Tank and the front seat of her new car.

My head was spinning and I knew I had to get away. I took advantage of Ranger's surprise and turned and ran, but this time I didn't make it too far. Ranger's hand came around my arm and I stopped. He glanced at the Camaro and began walking decisively down the street, away from the pub and the car, dragging me behind him. His hand around my upper arm was tight enough that I couldn't break free and he was walking with a speed that made me half-run to keep up with him.

A block and a half later he opened the passenger door to the Cayenne and shoved me, none too gently, into what was this time, thankfully, an empty seat. As we drove away I risked a sideways glance and saw he was not in a happy mood. Wait. Shouldn't that have been me that was unhappy? In the last few minutes I had heard my ex telling Morelli of my lack of sexual expertise, heard Morelli bragging about his own prowess and seen Morelli pat another woman's ass and call her Cupcake.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked Ranger. "Why were you and Dickie and Morelli in that pub?"

"I was there with the intent to apprehend an FTA," Ranger said. "What were you doing there?"

"I was there waiting for Lula, who didn't show," I said. I did a full-body shudder as I remembered what I'd recently seen. "We were going to have a study session for her World History final. It's tomorrow."

"What were Dickie and Morelli doing there?" Ranger asked.

"I have no idea. I came into the bar, talked to the bartender and found a place for Lula and me to study. When I came out of the restroom and sat down I heard Dickie and Joe and…you know what happened after that. And who's FTA?"

"Hennessey." Ranger's answer was curt. "Capital murder."

"Oh," I said. "He was so nice to me. He gave me a drink on the house."

"Not the bartender," Ranger said. "His cousin. I was outside waiting for his cousin, Kevin Hennessey, to show when I saw first you, then Dickie, and then Morelli walk into the bar. I had no idea what was going on, but I thought I should be inside and it turns out I was right."

I glanced at the passing scenery and realized we were not on the way to Haywood, which had been my assumption. "Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you to Morelli's."

"The hell you are!" I exclaimed. "Morelli and I are through. I'm not going back there."

"Babe, you and Morelli are not through. You may think you are, but you'll be back together soon enough. I'm sure he'll ditch the blonde and give you a plausible explanation."

"This was the last straw, Ranger!" I doubled up my fist, the same one I punched Dickie with and pounded the dashboard for emphasis. Pain shot up my arm past my elbow and I whimpered. Ranger pulled the car to the curb. He turned on the interior lights and took hold of my hand. It was swollen and already faintly bruised. I'd put everything I had into that punch to Dickie's nose. Without a word he doused the lights, made a u-turn and pulled back into traffic. We were now heading away from Morelli's, but also still away from Haywood.

"Where are we going now?" I asked.

"Your place."

"I can't," I said. "My bathroom is being remodeled. And I can't go to my parents' house because Valerie and Albert are on their second honeymoon and my parents are keeping the girls." The tears welled up quickly and spilled down my face. "I'm h-h-homeless," I sobbed.

Ranger sighed. It was a really big sigh and it spoke volumes. He didn't want to be stuck with me, but he made a left turn at the next intersection and I knew we were headed to Haywood. And suddenly I was angry. My temper evaporated my tears before they could continue to fall.

"This is your fault," I told Ranger. He heard me, but he didn't respond so I continued.

"I was going to decimate Morelli. He deserved it. If you hadn't stuck your nose into my business you…"

"I wouldn't be wearing a pitcher of ale," Ranger said with a perfectly controlled voice. "And you wouldn't have to worry about being homeless because you'd be a guest of the Trenton PD tonight. He was on-duty, Babe, and you were about to assault a police officer."

"On duty, my ass," I mumbled. "She might be his informant, but I don't think information was all he was planning on getting. Where are we going?" I knew where we were going, but I wanted to hear him say it.

"RangeMan." The finality in Ranger's voice hit me like a physical blow. It was obvious he didn't want to spend time with me. Okay, so it probably didn't feel good to be hit in the head with a pitcher of beer, and it probably felt worse to have that beer run down his neck and soak his clothing under his jacket. But it wasn't like I did it on purpose. He wanted to be rid of me so badly he was willing to take me to Joe's after he'd seen what Joe did to me. My feelings were hurt and my hurt was coming out as anger.

"Pull over," I shouted. "Let me out. I don't want to be a burden to you." He ignored me and kept on driving. My temper wouldn't go away. My hand hurt too bad to punch anything else so I decided to get away from everyone who was part of the night's fiasco. When the Cayenne slowed to a stop at a red light, I reached for the door. The locks wouldn't release and I looked over in time to see Ranger's hand on the master lock.

I wanted out. I released my seat belt as I hit the down button for the window, to no avail. From the corner of my eye I saw Ranger pull something from his visor. Before I knew it, my left hand was cuffed. He held my right wrist firmly, avoiding the tender area. He looped the cuffs through the handle above my door and clamped the other cuff around my right wrist.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" I began, only to be interrupted by the beep of Ranger's phone. He pushed a button on the dash and Lester's voice filled the cabin.

"Hey, boss, we got him. Kevin Hennessey walked his ass down the sidewalk right to us. He's cuffed, shackled and in the back seat of the vehicle. No harm, no foul."

"Good job," Ranger said.

"Tank's not answering his phone," Lester said. "Did you pull him off the back door?"

"Yes. Tank is…busy. He will be unavailable to transport, and something's come up that I have to deal with." Ranger shot a sideways look in my direction and my temper notched up one more level. I was not something to be dealt with. The hurt feelings were sinking deeper inside as temper rose to the top. I was pissed. I yanked, in vain, trying to pull my hands free.

Ranger continued talking to Lester. "You and Bobby are going to have to transport."

"Uh, I had plans for later this evening." Lester's disappointment left no doubt as to what kind of plans he'd had.

"Not anymore," Ranger said. "I've got the paperwork with me and I'm almost to RangeMan. Leave Bobby with Hennessey and then you come to seven. I'll give you the papers and the key to my place in Boston. You can spend the day there tomorrow and catch up on the sleep you'll miss."

"Will do." There was resigned acceptance in Lester's voice. "Hey," he continued. "Bobby and I missed you leaving the bar. What'd Stephanie do when she saw Morelli in a lip-lock with the blonde amazon? Did she go ape-shit?"

There was a moment's silence and then Ranger said, "Ask her yourself. She's beside me in the passenger seat."

"Uhh, sorry, beautiful."

"Screw you, Lester." I couldn't even make my typical rude Italian hand gesture and once again I pulled without success at my binding.

"We'll be there shortly, boss." Lester disconnected, but not before I heard Bobby's laughter in the background. That's right, I remembered. I was their entertainment.

Ranger pulled into the parking garage and turned to look at me. "If I take the cuffs off will you promise not to run?" I didn't answer. I didn't understand the dynamics of the situation. Within a half-hour my life had gone from okay to being totally in shambles. Ranger sighed, again. That was starting to worry me. He'd always had my back, but I wasn't sure he had it anymore. We'd had a partnership of sorts and I wondered if that was crumbling…and why was it crumbling? It was just a dang pitcher of beer.

He came around to the passenger side of the Cayenne and opened my door. He asked me again, "Are you going to run?" I still remained silent. Suddenly the events of the evening were pressing down so hard on me I could barely breathe. Talking was out of the question. I'd already cried once in front of him and I wasn't going to risk it again. He leaned in and unfastened the cuff on my right wrist. He looked at the bruise and ran his hand over it softly at first and then a little more firmly. I winced because it was sore, but it stopped short of being painful.

"I don't think it's broken," he said. I didn't think so either, but my entire hand was swollen. I held my left hand out to him so he could remove the cuffs, but he didn't. Instead he lifted me out of the Cayenne and slung me over his shoulder. I doubled up my good fist and started pounding him on his lower back and butt. The handcuffs dangled and smacked him in the thigh.

"Stop," he said as we approached the elevator that would take us to his apartment. He said it with such command that I stopped. He set me on my feet as the door slid closed. He used his key fob and the elevator began to move and he began to move closer to me. I backed up until I was against the wall and he came closer. There was a look in his eyes I couldn't fathom and that was unusual, because as much as I talked about his blank face I was pretty good at picking up Ranger nuances. His mood was odd and I thought he was angry, but I didn't understand why.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but it was just beer and I thought you were Dickie."

"This isn't about the beer, Babe. I do have something to deal with tonight, and so do you."

The elevator door opened and Ranger quickly fobbed us into his apartment. He opened his phone and made a call. I don't understand Spanish at all, but I was sure he was talking about me. He disconnected and turned to me. "Are you going to run?" I didn't answer.

"If you won't promise me that you'll stay, I'm going to keep you cuffed. If you give me your word you'll stay I'll leave you unfettered….and if you give your word, you won't break it." I was smart enough to sense a threat in his last statement. I was too tired to run and I didn't have anywhere to run to.

"I'll stay," I said. I held out my left hand which still had the handcuff attached. He took my hand and led me across the room into his bedroom. The light was dim, filtering in from the hallway. Still holding me he walked over to the nightstand and opened the door. He pulled out a key and unlocked the bracelet.

"You have handcuff keys in your nightstand?" I asked trying hard to keep the surprise out of my voice.

"Something to remember, Babe." He smiled at me and for a moment my mentor was back. He gave me a gentle shove toward the door. "Go back to the living room. Lester will be here for the paperwork any moment. Everything he needs is in the portfolio on the credenza and if you give it to him, it will give him a chance to apologize in person. I think he'll want to do that."

"Why, so you won't take him to the mats?" I was being churlish, but I remembered the glee in Lester's voice when he asked the question and the laughter I'd heard from Bobby.

"No. He will apologize because he cares about you. All the men do. I know it sounded as if he and Bobby were having fun at your expense, but I imagine they were wanting to hear details if you pounded Joe."

I squeezed my hand and looked ruefully at the bruising. "Dickie got what was coming to him, but I didn't get to Joe."

"That's my fault," Ranger said. "Punching Dickie and stomping on his crotch probably won't land you in any trouble, but Morelli on duty is another story. Calling Vinnie to bond you out would have been more than you would have wanted to deal with tonight."

He turned and walked from my side into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. I stayed where I was standing until I heard the water come on in the shower. Maybe Ranger wasn't upset with me, and maybe I should walk into the bathroom and join him in the shower. A knock on the door of the apartment made my decision for me. I walked out of the bedroom and back through the apartment to let Lester in.

Only it wasn't Lester. It was Ella. "Stephanie, let me see your hand," she commanded. "Ranger called Luis and told him to have me bring up a bag of frozen peas, silly man. I have ice packs."

I held out my hand and let Ella carefully probe the swollen area and come to the same conclusion Ranger had earlier. It wasn't broken. She sat me down at the table and placed a small cloth against my skin before laying a thin ice pack on top of it. "I'll leave an extra in the freezer," she said.

There was a second knock on the door. "That's Lester," I said.

"I'll let him in on my way out, dear."

I remained seated, and heard Lester greet Ella in Spanish. Geez, I was going to have to take lessons. He walked into the kitchen and sat across the table from me.

"How're you doing, beautiful?"

"I'm doing just great," I said, rolling my eyes and oozing sarcasm.

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier," Lester told me. I glanced in his direction and saw sincerity in his green eyes. "I wasn't trying to rub your nose in Joe's indiscretion, but…" he hesitated and I sat up straighter somehow knowing I was going to hear something important. "You're too good for him, Steph. You shouldn't waste any more time on Morelli when there are other people who care so much about you."

I arched an eyebrow. "Who cares about me? Are you telling me you do?"

"Hell, yes," Lester said, full of his usual cockiness. "I could make you forget Morelli in a cool minute, but then, I'd die."

"Die?"

"The boss doesn't share." I smiled and reached out my good hand and Lester took it in his. "Tell Ranger that Bobby and I are on the way and have everything under control." He stood and walked toward the door. "I wonder what the hell Tank is so busy with that he couldn't transport." I don't think he saw my shudder.

I stayed where I was sitting until Ranger came into the kitchen a few minutes later. He was wearing a clean black t-shirt and cargos and his still damp hair was pulled back into a ponytail. The soft scent of Bulgari permeated the room, but the smell of the Irish ale still lingered and I realized it was me. The beer had splashed down my back, to a much lesser extent than it had Ranger's, but I was still sticky.

"My shirt is wet, too," I told him. "Would you mind if I took a shower?"

"You still have clothes in my dressing room." It wasn't exactly permission, but I stood and left the room quickly. Ranger's mood had lightened slightly before he took his shower, but I sensed he had something big on his mind. I wasn't in the mood to hear what I thought might be bad news, so I didn't waste any time getting into the shower.

The water was warm and I was feeling fairly confident I wouldn't have a shower visitor, so I relaxed under the rainfall shower head and eased my back against the pulsating jets from the wall. I looked at the hand-held shower massager mounted in front of me for a long moment until I decided I wasn't that secure in my assumption Ranger would give me privacy. I foamed myself from head to toe with the Bulgari shower gel I found on the shelf and I felt some of the frustration of the evening begin to ebb. My mind replayed the night's events.

What the hell was Joe thinking? He'd called the blond woman Cupcake. Was he so sure he'd be vindicated by the fact he was working that he didn't care if he hurt me? Had he hurt me? No, he'd pissed me off and that was something entirely different. Suddenly Mary Lou's words came back to me, "I think your fan oscillates." She was right. I reached out and turned off the jets abruptly. I was tired of thinking about the evening. I just wanted to put it totally behind me.

I wrapped myself in a big bath towel that was hanging neatly folded on a rack and it wasn't until I was completely enveloped in it that I realized it was damp. I was using Ranger's towel. A wave of desire washed over me at the realization of this unplanned intimacy, so strong that my knees buckled. I made my way to his dressing room and breathed slow deep breaths. I had to get myself under control. I found clothes that were left from one of my previous stints as a RangeMan employee.

My jeans and underwear were dry and fine to put back on. My bra smelled strongly of ale and I decided to go braless. I pulled a black t-shirt on and looked in the mirror to see the RangeMan logo across the upper slope of my left breast. My nipples were hard, aching and so distended it looked like I had the little olives I liked on my peanut butter sandwiches underneath my shirt. The shirt was a tight fitting one, purchased for me by Ella and I was thinking it wouldn't work for whatever it was Ranger and I were going to talk about. I found one of his RangeMan shirts and changed. This shirt was much looser. Ranger was getting ready to tell me something bad, and the more I became convinced of it, the more I wanted him.

This wasn't the time for my desire to come crashing through all my carefully constructed barriers. Yes, his shirt was a much better option. A girl had to have her secrets, and my secret was I wanted Ranger. I was pissed at Joe, and happy at the same time he'd given me a reason to let down my defenses against Ranger. Great timing, because Ranger was angry about something and I was pretty sure it had something to do with me.

I found him sitting in the leather armchair. His legs were extended and his eyes were half-closed. A mostly empty water bottle dangled from his fingers. He looked relaxed, as relaxed as a jungle cat getting ready to pounce. He raised his eyes and stared at me and I could tell the looser t-shirt wasn't doing its job. He wanted me and I knew it. I wanted him and he knew it. So why was he just sitting there and why was I frozen in place halfway across the room from him?

"Sit down, Stephanie."

I did.

"Tell me why this time is different. Tell me why you won't be going back to Joe."

I sat quietly, thinking about Ranger's request. When I raised my eyes to meet his gaze I saw genuine concern, and interest. He wanted to know; it was important for him to know. I saw other things as well. The angle of his head and the tightness of his lips were a beacon of his controlled anger. I wondered if he knew he was sending that message. I knew this man. I knew he cared about me, in his way, of course.

This man also knew me. It was possible, probable even, he knew exactly why Joe and I lived our off again-on again life. Maybe it was time for him to hear the words.

"Joe is my shield," I said simply. "I've felt guilty for using him for some time, but tonight it became clear he was using me for reasons of his own. I know he cares about me on some level, as I care about him."

"You're not telling me why you won't be going back this time."

"I'm getting there." I ran my hand through my drying curls, disrupting them and probably giving myself the wild woman of Borneo look. "I care about Joe. I love Joe, but I'm not in love with Joe. He can make me angry, but he can't hurt me. He doesn't have that power. Only one person has that power, and as long as Joe is in my life that person keeps his distance."

The room was silent for a long time, seconds stretched into minutes. Finally Ranger said, "I don't believe you. History proves you will go back."

History. World History. Lula. Lula and Tank. The memories of the evening washed over me like water running over a crumbling earthen dam. I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around my legs. I bent my head forward and sat curled up in a ball on the end of Ranger's leather sofa. I felt small, inconsequential, and very alone. Time passed, but I don't know how much, maybe a minute, maybe five, but when Ranger spoke I was startled. I had completely forgotten where I was, my mind swirling with images of Dickie smirking at me from his perch on the barstool, Joe squeezing the ass of the blonde woman, and the glowing green liquid I'd chugged before I'd knocked Dickie on his ass.

"Using Joe as a shield works two ways," Ranger said. His voice was low, his words tentative. "Just as Joe kept you safe from me, he kept me safe from you." My eyes widened at his implication, but I wasn't going to be that easily swayed. I repeated his words.

"I don't believe you."

Ranger dropped the water bottle to the floor and stood. He held his hand out to me and I placed my good hand in his, letting him pull me from the sofa. His eyes were liquid as he pulled me against him. His arms encircled me, one hand slipping under my shirt at the small of my back. The other hand made its way to the back of my neck. I stood transfixed, because I knew what was coming. Me. I knew what was going to happen the first time his body came into contact with mine, and my body yearned for it. He angled his head and brought his mouth close to mine. My lips parted and he seized the opportunity.

I've known for a while that Ranger is a fabulous kisser, but this kiss redefined everything I thought I knew. His tongue slipped inside my mouth and the contact sent electricity shooting to all my important parts. When he took a brief break so we could breathe, one hand moved from the back of my neck and the other from the small of my back and they met, under the shirt beneath my breasts. His thumbs teased my nipples as his tongue once again plundered my mouth. I was walking along a cliff, getting closer and closer to the edge, to where I took the step that would tumble me off into a free-fall of pleasure. I was just one thumb flick, one tongue stroke away and…he pulled back!

I moaned and he separated himself from me completely. "Babe, I have something I have to do. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but it can't be put off. I'll be back as soon as possible." And then he was gone, and I stood aching in places no woman should ever have to ache.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**Future Perfect**

He left RangeMan, willing his body back under control. The ride across town to Morelli's took only ten minutes. He did some simple reconnoitering. The place was dark and the garage was empty. Morelli was apparently still on duty. He called Tank.

"Where the hell are you?"

"I'm keeping Lula out of the pub, _at any cost_."

"I need you for backup. Have Lula drop you off at Morelli's."

"You need me to protect you from Morelli?" Ranger heard the lazy drawl of humor in Tank's voice. Something had put his friend in a good mood and Ranger wasn't going to speculate on what that something was.

"I need you," Ranger said quietly, "for backup. I need you to keep me from killing the SOB when he finally drags his fucking ass home."

"I'll be right there."

They waited for three hours before Joe Morelli made it home. Morelli didn't seem surprised to see them. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" He didn't even try to hide his sarcasm.

"I'm here to inform you, Stephanie is through with you."

"Oh yeah?" Morelli rocked up on his toes, his stance showing a flash of aggression. "Why isn't Stephanie telling me this herself?"

"She tried to," Ranger said, "but I stopped her. Her method of getting her point across wasn't good, since you were on duty."

"Well, I'm not on duty now."

"You're not?"

"No," Joe said. "I'm not."

"Good, then I'll deliver her message."

Ranger's fist connected with Morelli, and the impact caused Morelli to stagger backward. He stared blankly toward Ranger and then sunk to the ground as his knees buckled.

"Stay with him," Ranger told Tank. "Get him inside the house before you go."

"Hey, man. I don't have a ride." Ranger raised an eyebrow and Tank shot him a smile. "Well, maybe I have someone I can call."

He found her curled up, covered with a throw and asleep on his sofa. He watched her sleep for a moment before he turned and went into the kitchen. Ella had left an extra icepack in the freezer and he took it and placed it on the back of his swollen hand. As he turned to leave the kitchen he saw Stephanie standing in the doorway watching him treat his injury. He could see she was tense and he understood. He'd left her abruptly and she probably was unsure of what would happen next.

"I found Morelli off duty," he told her. "I gave him the message that the two of you were through."

"Did you break his nose?" she asked.

"No, but I think I cracked his jaw." He held his left hand out and snagged hers. "It's been a long day, Babe. I'm ready for bed." He saw the disappointment in her eyes.

"You're tired, then?" she asked him.

"No." His two-hundred watt smile illuminated his face, and hers, as they walked hand in hand into the future.

The End.


End file.
